


In Our Bedroom After the War

by thesemovingparts



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Episode: s04e17 Red Haven's On Fire, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Families, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Trauma, Violence is there but not too graphic, a great deal of love and support, and Josh is still DCOS, and also, and gets screwed by the military complex, and only in the first couple of chapters, in which Private Moss joins the army for the sake of her college education, told partially in flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesemovingparts/pseuds/thesemovingparts
Summary: “Mr. President,” Josh said, breathing either too hard or not enough but he really couldn’t be sure. “Sir, a-- Did you say one of the-- There was a PFC in the humvee?”“Yes,” the President nodded solemnly. “It’s Donna.”***Donna Moss signed up for the military out of a desperate want for a college education. This wasn't the sacrifice she had in mind.





	1. Up in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> hello everybody, quite a number of months ago I was rewatching season 4 (as you do) and when I got to Red Haven's on Fire I got knocked in the head with this idea and haven't been able to shake it so now you've got to deal with it too. (there's gonna be pieces of dialogue stolen straight out of that episode, that's just how it's gonna be (don't) sue me)
> 
> I also recently discovered the fic The Homefront by xbedhead which gave me the courage to dive into this story headfirst (that one is very different from where I'm going with this one but you should go read it if you haven't bc Brilliance)
> 
> I've written kind of a sizable chunk of this story already and still have no idea how long it's going to be or where exactly it's going to end, plus my real life is very busy so who knows how often I'll be able to update it, but I gotta let it exist somewhere outside of my own head so I'm throwing you the introductory chapter!
> 
> PS title taken from the '07 song of the same name

They came out of nowhere.

One minute, Donna Moss was laughing at her own joke with her hands on the wheel of a humvee, and the next everything was, quite simply, on fire.

The sound of gunfire ricocheted across her eardrums and embedded itself in her psyche and the violence of a man’s arms around her as she struggled to get free found a home in the pit of her stomach.

She had only been on patrol.

They came out of nowhere.

 

\---

 

Sam Seaborn really did know how to grab ahold of a crowd.

As Josh watched him from the wings in that Orange County high school auditorium, he really was thinking about what a good speaker Sam Seaborn was, about how if he was running anywhere even the slightest bit farther to the left that he might actually have had a shot at winning.

It was a shame really, Josh thought, that this is how it had to play out, even with Scott Holcomb off the team and Toby Ziegler on it, there wasn’t really any hope of so much as managing a close election, but Sam Seaborn was certainly a good speaker.

Josh stood next to the President of the United States and cheered for his friend at every available opportunity and he wondered when his life had become such a conglomeration of good things.

They could lose all they wanted and they still had each other.

They would always have each other.

 

\---

 

“Leo, I just fired Scott Holcomb,” President Bartlet said, holding the secure military phone to his ear and stepping away from Josh. Sam’s address hummed vaguely at the back of his mind, interspersed with the loud cheers from an enthusiastic, if slightly hopeless, crowd. “Toby, who with Charlie, is meeting with a bail bondsman right now has to come off the payroll for a week.”

“Sir,” Leo cut off his rambling, voice grave. “I’m afraid something’s happened.”

“What?” the President lowered his voice slightly.

“Two Lance Corporals and a PFC have been taken,” Leo said, and Jed couldn’t help but notice the slight twinge of emotion in his voice that would not have normally accompanied news of that nature. Empathy, yes; concern, yes; but this was almost _fear._ Since when was Leo afraid of a military challenge?

“What do you mean they’ve been taken?” Jed was all business.

“Patrolling Bitanga Airport in a Humvee,” Leo explained. “Fifty guys came out of nowhere.”

“We _secured_ the airport,” Jed insisted.

“They came out of nowhere,” Leo repeated, almost helpless.

“What are we doing?”

“Special Ops wants to brief you on some rescue scenarios,” Leo said.

“We’re coming home,” Jed let out in a huff, listening over his shoulder to a particularly loud round of applause in the auditorium.

“Nzele says for immunity and five-hundred million dollars he’ll keep ‘em alive,” Leo continued.

“Tell Ghana to tell Nzele that he’s got nine hours and twenty minutes before I take him,” the President said emphatically.

“Yes, sir.”

Nancy appeared at the President’s right shoulder and spoke to him quietly. “Sir, he’s about to introduce you.”

“Thanks,” he replied without lowering the phone.

“Mr. President,” Leo said insistently. “There’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” he asked with exasperation, not for Leo but for the situation as a whole.

“The PFC that was taken,” Leo began slowly, taking a heavy breath.

“Yeah?”

“The PFC taken,” he repeated. “Was Donna Moss, sir.”

And then he was Jed all of a sudden, with his heart in his throat and his lungs going still in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder just as Josh clapped for something Sam was saying on stage, a small grin coloring his face with pride and a satisfaction in the set of his shoulders.

Jed gripped the phone a little bit tighter in his hand and finally understood what it was about Leo’s voice that was putting him off. It was subtle and it was quiet, but he was pretty sure the man had tears in his eyes, in his throat, and probably on his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” Jed asked. “I mean, are you _positive,_ Leo?”

“Yes, sir,” Leo said with a dread in his words. “Yes, we are.”

Jed snapped the phone shut with a tension in his body that felt all too familiar, and handed it off to Nancy.

He forced himself to take a deep breath before putting on a presidential voice, finding the act of it laborious for the first time in years.

“Josh,” he said, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder briefly as he stepped up beside him.

“Yes, sir?”

“We’re heading back to Air Force One after this,” the President said. “I want you to ride with me, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. President,” Josh nodded, but his brow furrowed in a way that told Jed the man knew something was amiss.

The crowd cheered, the President nodded, and he stepped out on stage.

No one could tell that his mind was already reeling.

 

\---

 

Her wrists felt raw.

Donna wasn’t quite sure why that was the detail that was standing out to her amongst the rest of the chaos, but whatever they had used to tie her hands behind her back was rubbing her wrists absolutely _raw._

She tried to adjust her attention in an attempt to absorb her surroundings and find the best way to go about _handling_ the problem currently at hand, but that only made her aware of how the rest of her body was hurting too.

The gag in her mouth made it difficult to breathe and she thought that if she had the use of her hands, she would be able to feel a bump on her head where she had hit it in the initial struggle. One of her ribs was either broken or just _really bruised_ and the rocking motion of the truck they were in was making her feel nauseated.

Donna looked to her two companions that were also tied up in the metal box of a space and tried to take stock of their injuries as well, noting that all three of them were bleeding but very much still conscious and very much still alive. Sometimes it was the little things.

Most importantly, and perhaps last but certainly not least, there was definitely a gun pressed to her temple.

Six months, she thought, she’d only had Six more months.

 

\---

 

Josh had ridden with the President on a trip with the motorcade maybe a total of three times in his four years as Deputy Chief of Staff.

It just wasn’t generally where he was most needed or most useful at any given moment, and it wasn’t something he had ever really considered. However, as they pulled away from Sam’s speaking engagement and drove back towards Air Force One, he couldn’t help but realize how abnormal it felt.

Not just the fact that he was riding with the President, but the fact that he was the _only one_ riding with the President.

Josh knew that he was prone to jumping to the worst conclusion possible in situations that didn’t call for panic, had been told as such by more people (and professionals) than he cared to admit, so he tried to tamp down the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach as the motorcade pulled out onto the street and sped up.

“Josh,” the President began, speaking methodically as he turned to look at Josh. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to try and remain calm while I do so.”

Josh gave up on trying not to panic. He was panicking, there was definitely something wrong and he was _panicked._

“Sir,” he said, feeling his heart drop in his chest. “All due respect but would you please just tell me what’s going on?”

“Earlier today, we secured the Bitanga Airport in Kundu,” the President said slowly.

“Yes, Mr. President,” Josh nodded. Normally, he would have been behind on the flow of information regarding issues of international conflict due to it not being his area of expertise nor an element of his job, but Kundu he was all too aware of. Kundu he checked in on once every twenty minutes much to the annoyance of everyone who worked in his department.

“Leo informed me just before my speech tonight that there has been a development,” he continued. Josh’s heart wouldn’t stop racing and he was pretty sure he would soon be sweating straight through his suit. “Two Lance Corporals and a PFC were patrolling the airport in a humvee when they were ambushed by about fifty men.”

It was blunt, but it was honest, and Josh stopped breathing because suddenly he understood why he was alone in the car with the President of the United States for the first time since joining the administration.

Suddenly he knew, and all he wanted was to go back to not knowing.

“Mr. President,” he said, breathing either too hard or not enough he really couldn’t be sure. “Sir, a-- Did you say one of the-- There was a PFC in the humvee?”

“Yes,” the President nodded solemnly. “It’s Donna.”

Josh felt the world shattering around him and lost all sense of whose presence he was in or the fact that he was meant to be professional and respectful at a moment like that. Instead, he felt himself double over in his seat, breath coming frantically as he tucked his head between his legs and tried not to think about the worst case scenario.

“Josh--”

He sat up abruptly.

“Is she-- I mean-- Did they tell you if she’s--”

“She was taken, Josh,” the President placed a calming hand on his shoulder and Josh appreciated the sentiment but couldn’t help but think that the most calming thing would’ve been to never send her there in the first place. “But they’re making demands, so we know she’s still alive.”

“She’s alive,” Josh said, nodding irregularly before pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “She’s alive.”

“Josh,” the President pressed forward. “We are going to do everything we can to get them back, okay? Try and breathe for me.”

Josh lowered his hands and swallowed thickly, digging the tips of his fingers into his thighs as he tried to count out his breaths and regulate them. It was cruel of his panic-stricken brain to remind him what those counts sounded like in _her_ voice so many times before, so many anxiety attacks when she had been there to talk him down and bring him back to Earth.

“What’s the next step?” Josh asked, when he was still shaken but able to at the very least formulate a sentence again.

“Special Ops is working on rescue options right now,” he replied.

“Good, that’s good,” Josh nodded, almost just talking to himself.

“But Josh-- Josh, look at me,” the President insisted until Josh met his gaze. “I’m not going to be able to keep you informed during this.”

“Sir--”

“In this case, you are a civilian family member,” the President ignored his protest. “And we can’t treat you differently just because we know you. Understand?”

“Mr. President--”

“Josh, I’m not kidding around.”

Josh took a breath, hesitated, and let it out slowly when he looked in the President’s eyes and saw the pure determination there, knew that he was going to stick to his word, that he was going to do everything in his power to get Donna home safely.

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” the President nodded. “Then starting now, I’m putting you on a leave of absence until further notice.”

“That’s not-- Sir, you can’t--”

“I can and I will,” he said seriously. “Do you really think you’re going to be any use to us right now anyway?”

Josh leaned back heavily in his seat and stared at the tinted glass of the window, not through it and not at the tarmac as they pulled up next to Air Force One, but at the glass itself-- thick and cloudy and with no answers to give him.

“No, sir.”

 

\---

 

Donnatella Moss was a big proponent of fresh starts.

She was familiar with mistakes and she was familiar with missteps, and so the idea of being allowed to start over with a new job, a new world, a new company of people and tasks and rules had been inviting when she enlisted in the US Army at twenty-eight years old.

Well, that and the offering of a free college education once she gave them four years of duty. A simple trade off for a young woman who was maybe a little bit lost and a lot in need of a path and a job and in desperate _want_ of an education.

And so she signed up.

She signed up and she was put on desk duty and four years later, somehow, she was trapped in a concrete room with her hands chained above her head and her own blood dripping into her eyes.

Donna could barely keep track of what was going on around her with the way her ears were ringing, from the way her shoulders burned and her wrists felt completely mangled by the restraints. It was so dark and she was no longer in the same room as her fellow captives and as much as she wanted to make use of all her training, she just didn’t have the mental capacity to figure a way _out._

From what she had managed to piece together, Donna knew that her captors thought she knew something, that she had information that they wanted despite the fact that she was low ranking enough to not have been given all the information upon the time of her abduction.

She figured that was a good thing, the not knowing, because if they kept at her the way they were going, she didn’t know if she would be able to keep herself from spilling secrets just in the hope that some of it might _stop._

There was blood in her eyes and blood in her mouth and her wrists felt like they might completely detach from the rest of her body at any moment without warning but hey, at least she was going to save some money on her college education.

 

\---

 

Josh couldn’t sit still.

He was most certainly driving his fellow passengers crazy with the way he was pacing the corridors of Air Force One with an energy so nervous and fearful it very well could have been interfering with the mechanisms of the plane.

But he didn’t care. He didn’t care and he didn’t want to care, because Donna was out there, so far away from home, hurt and scared and did he mention _far away._ No one had any information to give him, and he understood that no one _could_ give any information to him, but his sanity was quickly unravelling and leaving him only with endless horrific scenarios on which to chew.

When he found himself striding towards the press cabin, he knew it wasn’t a logical choice and understood why it was a _bad idea,_ but needed to talk to _someone_ about it all.

“Josh,” CJ called out as he passed her, immediately chasing him down the long corridor. “You can’t go in there, Josh.”

“They might have new information,” he said, voice shaking and definitely not maintaining any sort of mask of strength. Josh wore his heart on his sleeve, always had, and the current situation was only exacerbating that particular trait.

“I’ve told you everything they’ve given me,” CJ said, walking just behind his right shoulder.

“Maybe they know something they’re not willing to tell you,” Josh said, knowing it was nonsensical but needing something to grasp onto. “Maybe they’d be more willing to talk to me.”

“You know that’s not true,” CJ said seriously.

“I’ll make a plea to them,” Josh said, no longer talking about the press and determined despite the wavering tone to his voice. “I’ll come forward and remind them that she’s human, that she’s--”

“You’re a member of the senior staff and any personal statement you make is going to undermine--”

“She’s my fiancée, CJ!” he turned on his heel and stopped in his tracks to face her, almost forcing her to stumble into him with the abruptness of it. He could see CJ’s fear and her pity and her love all right there on her face but he barely noticed the tears in his own eyes. “She only had six months left of-- Of-- Of active duty,” he floundered.

“I know,” CJ said gently.

“And she’s not even-- CJ, she’s never been in combat before,” he continued insistently, not even caring that CJ definitely already had this information. Donna was her friend too after all. “She’s an administrative-- She’s worked a fucking _desk job_ for the past four years because we haven’t been in a conflict large enough to send-- and now-- And _now--”_

“Josh,” CJ said evenly. “Please come sit down and let me get you something to eat.”

Josh looked down at his feet and crossed his arms over his chest as if squeezing himself tighter might make some of the rolling, uncomfortable, painful _fear_ imbedded in his heart and lungs fade even a little bit. It wasn’t working, but he was still trying.

He looked up at CJ, could see the pleading in her eyes and wished he could do what she wanted of him, but knew that he couldn’t.

Josh turned around and stepped into the press cabin.

Everyone froze.

 

\---

 

Her hands were going numb when they untied her wrists from the bar above her and pulled her to her feet.

Donna had the faint consideration at the back of her mind that _this_ was her chance to fight back, but that thought was quickly squashed when she realized her captors had to practically carry her to get her across the room, so running may not have been much of an option anymore.

“We don’t know anything,” she muttered in a broken voice as she was shoved up against a wall. Donna leaned against it heavily, not trusting her legs to hold her weight, and watched as her two brothers in arms were pushed into similar positions on either side of her.

“Are you guys okay?” Corporal Hanney leaned over and whispered, but neither Donna nor Corporal Hernandez to her left had a chance to respond before they were cut off by a harsh:

“No talking!”

And then, before Donna could really take stock of her own injuries or those of anyone else in the room, there was a newspaper in her hands and a flash was going off, bright enough to make her see spots and blink hard against the dizziness it caused.

It took mere minutes for her to be back in an empty room with her wrists tied to a bar above her head and her knees digging into the concrete of the floor.

Donna felt like she had never even left.

 

\---

 

“Alright, Amy,” Toby said, collapsing into a seat at the table with the woman in question and an exhausted Sam Seaborn. “How much money does he have left?”

“28,500 cash on hand,” Amy said as she rifled through a few papers on the table in front of them. “That’s including a loan for 15,000 for targeted radio spots.”

Charlie wandered away from the conversation, hands in his pockets as he let himself tune out the campaign talk behind him and focus in on the news coverage of the hostages in Kundu. He felt like he had been out of the loop during the whole ordeal, too busy getting himself and Toby out of a holding cell in Southern California to be completely up to date on how the situation was progressing.

In fact, he hadn’t even had a chance to speak to the President about it before the man was rushing away from the campaign event and back towards Air Force One. Of course, Charlie knew that his personal understanding of an international crisis wasn’t top priority for anyone, but he did like to make it a habit to be as well informed as possible during times like these.

When the picture appeared on that television screen, however, Charlie suddenly wished he wasn’t quite so informed.

“That’s Donna,” he breathed, more to himself than to anyone else, his heart sinking in his chest and the muffled sounds of Toby, Amy, and Sam behind him ringing in his ears.

“The reason the campaign’s strapped is because Holcomb never tapped Democratic interest groups,” Amy explained.

“Will they write checks this late?” Toby asked.

“If they can be convinced Sam’s still sucking in some oxygen,” Amy said with a hint of amusement to her voice.

“Guys…” Charlie said, voice a little bit louder but not quite strong enough to break through the bubble of intense focus the three had formed at the table behind him. Charlie couldn’t look away from the screen.

“I’m enjoying this,” Sam deadpanned.

“You’re eight points down with ten points up for grabs,” Toby continued, ignoring the quip. “We need them all to break for you.”

“All of them?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Toby said without a shadow of a doubt in his tone.

“ _Guys,”_ Charlie tried again.

“Look,” Toby pressed onwards, not noticing the slight urgency to Charlie’s tone. “Who would’ve thought that Charlie could bust us out of the Newport Beach Correctional Facility using nothing but his shoes-- Go ahead, tell them, Charlie--”

“That’s Donna Moss,” Charlie said, finally getting their attention as all three heads turned to look at him curiously.

Toby was the first one to follow his gaze to the television set, standing up slowly when he realized what he was looking at.

“Are you sure?” he took a few steps closer to stand beside Charlie.

“That’s Donna Moss,” Charlie repeated certainly, because even past the gash through her eyebrow, the bruises and the scrapes and the busted lip, he could recognize that woman.

That woman of whom there was a photograph on Josh Lyman’s desk, that woman who had given him advice on his relationship with Zoey more than a handful of times, that woman who had a joyous effect on anyone she came into contact with, who had managed to soften Josh without ever taking away a single bit of his passion and fire.

“Is it possible that that happened in the struggle,” Amy said quietly from somewhere behind them, in reference to the one thing all of them were thinking. Those soldiers were hurt, and badly. “I mean, when they were ambushed?”

“No,” Toby responded simply, gravely.

“No,” Charlie repeated. “They got beaten.”

“Where’s Josh right now?” Sam asked, the only one that seemed to be thinking even somewhat clearly, not hypnotized by the image still plastered in front of their eyes even as the news coverage cut away from it. “Why didn’t anyone inform us that--”

“He’s on Air Force One,” Toby cut off what was sure to become a lengthy stretch of concerned rambling.

“He shouldn’t be alone right now,” Sam insisted. “He’s gonna be-- I mean, this is his worst fear come true.”

“No,” Charlie shook his head and finally looked away from the television to glance at Sam over his shoulder. “His worst fear is her not coming home. We’re not there yet.”

Sam chewed on his words for a moment, glancing between Charlie’s serious face and the flickering light of the news.

“Toby,” he began, almost pleadingly.

“CJ’s up there,” Toby said certainly. “She’ll know how to take care of him.”

 

\---

 

CJ knew the press well, of that single fact she could be certain.

She knew what made them tick, she knew what details of a story they’d be scrambling for before it was even announced, and she knew that they would stop short of nothing to get an exclusive with a senior White House staffer.

She _knew_ all of this, so when Josh stepped into the press cabin and the eternal buzz of reporters faded to stilted silence, she was thrown off balance. Every single writer in that cabin stared at Josh, stared at the brokenness of a man in love on the verge of a nervous breakdown and didn’t ask him a single question.

Maybe, CJ considered, it was because they had secretly been harboring a soft spot for the man that loved to hate them, but she knew it was Donna they really had the soft spot for.

Everybody at the White House loved Donna after all, a woman whom had become a fixture in the building despite never having actually worked there and a woman whose joy and spirit and wit they all appreciated endlessly.

So the press was quiet, because Donna Moss was missing and Josh was falling to pieces and that was so far from the story that any of them wanted to tell.

“Josh,” CJ rested a steady hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

He turned without protest and walked out of the room, but CJ held back for a moment to address her reporters.

“I don’t…” she trailed off, not sure how to thank them.

“If there’s anything we can do,” Katie spoke up for all of them.

“Yeah,” CJ breathed. And then she followed Josh back down the narrow corridors of Air Force One.

By the time she found him, Josh had sequestered himself into an empty conference room. He was hunched over in a chair with his head in his hands and pushed back a few feet from the table itself and CJ could feel his terror flooding the room from the ground up the longer he sat there.

“Josh,” she said softly as she pulled out a chair and spun it sideways so she could sit down facing him.

“I can’t talk to them, I know,” he mumbled, pushing his hands through his hair and then leaning back in his chair without looking at her.

“I talked to the kitchen on the way over here,” CJ said. “They’re gonna bring you something to eat.”

Josh nodded mutely, staring at the edge of the table as if it might answer the questions rushing through his head.

“Did you know that she never wanted to be deployed to any sort of conflict?” he asked quietly.

CJ wasn’t sure if he really wanted an answer or not, wasn’t sure if he realized who he was talking to or not, but she spoke up nonetheless, willing to be his sounding board if that’s what he wanted.

“No,” she responded. “I didn’t.”

“She enlisted for no other reason than to be able to afford college,” he said with a soft laugh, one that contained little actual humor. “Donna Moss is the biggest pacifist I’ve ever met and the idea of her being willing to hurt _anyone_ no matter the reason…”

“She’s empathetic,” CJ agreed.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I mean, she’s been so lucky to have been serving during peacetime because she got to stay in DC for four years,” he continued with a weak sort of insistence. “And she got to prove herself invaluable enough that they let her start taking night classes at Georgetown so when she gets out she’s only got a couple of years left.”

“Every time there’s a conflict,” CJ said quietly. “She’s one of my first thoughts.”

“She saw this-- This picture,” he continued without acknowledging CJ’s remark. “It ran in the _Post._ A mother stood up in front of a tank.”

“Yeah,” CJ nodded. “I remember.”

“When Donna saw that she-- God, she looked me right in the eye and said,” he couldn’t keep his voice from shaking, his hands, his words. “She said _Josh, if we deploy troops, I’m not gonna dodge it.”_

Just watching him, CJ felt herself begin to break. The sheer force of his turmoil was enough to topple a skyscraper and CJ was doing everything in her power to just keep from collapsing into a sobbing mess.

She didn’t know what to say to him, and so she stayed quiet and let him continue.

“Four years of keeping herself out of danger, of working an administrative position,” Josh was crying now, voice cracking on every other word as he clutched his hands in his lap. “But she saw children being senselessly murdered, mothers standing in front of tanks, family members forced to rape one another… Donna saw people hurting and there was no changing her mind.”

He let his elbows fall to his knees once more and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes as if trying to push the memory back into his skull with physical force. His shoulders were shaking and CJ wanted to reach out and pick him up and hold him until everything was alright again but knew she couldn’t, knew she wasn’t the one he really needed even if she was the only one he had for the moment.

“I could’ve gotten her out of it,” he said into his hands, voice hoarse and full of fear. “I could’ve gotten her _out of it_ and she only had six months of active duty left but she had to adopt some sort of _hero complex_ and… _and go.”_

CJ covered her mouth with her hand as a steward knocked and entered the room.

Neither of them touched the turkey sandwich that he left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3 you can find me on tumblr @ joshuadykeman or talk to me here in the comments! 
> 
> also forgive me if I end up taking liberties with how reality works and I promise some of the future chapters are genuinely better than this, ya girl just had to get some exposition in there first


	2. Valuable Resources

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Go hear the President out,” Leo said, and it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Meet these people, get out of your office, and-- for the love of God-- eat something.” 
> 
> “Can you still give me orders if I’m on a leave of absence?” Josh deadpanned without making eye contact. 
> 
> “I like to think so,” Leo said, not physically shrugging but maintaining that sort of a tone despite himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna say thank you for all the nice comments and i'm sorry i haven't responded to them individually-- life is crazy but please know how much i appreciate any sort of support.
> 
> i also wanna say thank you for your patience, both in the fact that posting is sporadic at best and the fact that i am going to continue saying a big fuck you to how reality and the military work-- ready to put your suspension of disbelief to use? sweet! 
> 
> this whole story is far from the best thing i've ever written i'm just playing around with stuff as a sort of selfish writing exercise but i'll keep posting if you guys are into it thanks for stopping by <3

 

_ “He’s doing fine,” Josh said with an exasperated, if not slightly amused, sigh.  _

_ “He’s stepping on it,” Toby retorted, pacing back and forth in the small hallway that they had been sequestered to.  _

_ “You can’t even hear what he’s saying!” Josh threw his hands up with a baffled laugh.  _

_ “I can hear well enough,” Toby leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed and his scowl aimed at the place where the wall met the floor.  _

_ The Governor was giving a speech to the Wisconsin Army National Guard, the very same stump speech he had given hundreds of times already during the campaign, and although Josh had spent a considerable amount of time with Toby since meeting him, there was something about the man’s inability to  _ calm down _ that would never cease to fascinate Josh.  _

_ Not that Josh was the posterboy for relaxation, but watching Toby Ziegler lose his composure was far more entertaining than doing so himself.  _

_ The two of them had been sent away, because Leo didn’t want Toby getting on the Governor’s nerves for at least a full hour, and Josh was beginning to go stir crazy in the halls of that military base.  _

_ “You’ve gotta have a little more faith in him,” Josh pressed.  _

_ “I’ll have more faith in him when he stops stepping on it,” Toby exclaimed right back with indignation.  _

_ Josh was so busy laughing at Toby’s outburst, that he didn’t hear footsteps approaching until they stopped right beside him.  _

_ “Mr. Ziegler and Mr. Lyman?” a young woman in a dress uniform asked, hands clasped professionally behind her back and countenance both polite and serious.  _

_ “Yeah?” Josh leaned his shoulder against the wall, one foot propped up across the other and looking at her curiously.  _

_ “I’ve been assigned to give you a tour of the facilities,” she said simply. “Are you ready to get started?” _

_ “A tour?” Toby asked with a furrowed brow.  _

_ “Yeah sorry, you’re not getting him any farther away from the auditorium,” Josh said with a smirk and a nod towards his companion.  _

_ “I’m afraid I’ve been ordered to do just that,” she responded and Josh couldn’t help but notice a fraction of her professionalism slipping as she tried to hold back a grin. Something about the tiny moment overjoyed him.  _

_ “Can I ask by whom?” Toby chimed in, clearly perturbed by the whole ordeal.  _

_ “I believe Leo McGarry spoke to my C.O. and he then told me to give you a tour,” she explained. “So if you’d like to get started…” _

_ “I don’t know what Leo has against constructive criticism, but I’m gonna--” _

_ “Toby,” Josh cut him off before he could go on a proper Ziegler tyraid. “You’re gonna have an aneurysm if you don’t cool it with the constructive criticism.” _

_ The soldier snorted softly, making both men turn their heads to look at her and her sudden expression of embarrassment. Josh had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing outright.  _

_ “Can I ask how you got stuck with this job?” Josh asked her.  _

_ “Like I said: Leo McGarry spoke to my C.O. and--” _

_ “No,” Josh shook his head with a smirk. “You drew the short end of the stick here. What did you do to piss off your C.O. and get stuck with us for the day?” _

_ He studied the young woman’s face, catching on quickly that she hadn’t yet learned how to school her expression for the sake of her career, and saw her deliberating with herself for a moment before she spoke.  _

_ “I only finished Basic Training a few weeks ago, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in my class who requested to be placed outside of Wisconsin,” she said. “So I’m pretty sure I’m being hazed, Mr. Lyman.” _

_ Josh absolutely cackled at that, because he’d never met a member of the military that was somehow able to be both respectful and mocking all in the same sentence.  _

_ “What’s your name?” Josh asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.  _

_ “Private Moss, sir,” she offered her hand and he shook it, not missing the strength of her grip against his.  _

_ “You know, ninety percent of success in the military is being good at performing,” Toby said gruffly as he pushed up off the wall. “If you’re able to call this idiot  _ ‘Mr. Lyman’  _ without cracking a smile, I think you’re gonna do okay for yourself, Moss.” _

_ “Yeah,” Josh shrugged. “But the other ten percent is conservatism so you won’t be doing okay for the rest of the country come November.”  _

_ “Yes, sir,” Donna just smiled at him. “Are you ready for that tour now?” _

 

\---

The chair in Josh’s office had a wobbly wheel. 

He sat there, staring out the window with his feet propped up on the sill and every time he shifted his weight he was startled by the slight jostling of the tiny flaw. Donna had told him to bring it home with him time and time again, that she knew a guy who could fix it and take that one annoying thing off of his plate so he could focus on all the other annoying things. 

Every time she told him though, he’d forgotten, or only remembered once he was already in his car on the way home, or consciously decided to just put it off for another day because there would always be time tomorrow. 

There was always going to be time tomorrow. 

“Josh?” 

Leo had never sounded hesitant before, didn’t even quite hit the mark in that moment, but it was unsettling nonetheless. 

“Yeah?” Josh said, resenting the way his voice cracked from disuse. He figured maybe he had been sitting there for a bit longer than he’d realized. 

“The families are here,” Leo said simply, and Josh forced himself to plant his feet on the ground and slowly turn in his chair to look at him. “In the Mural Room.”

“Okay.” 

“The President is going to speak with them in a few minutes,” Leo continued, clearly trying to lead Josh to water without any success. 

“Is he going to give them any information that you didn’t already tell me,” he glanced at his watch. “Three hours ago?” 

“You’re her representative in that room, Josh,” Leo insisted. “You should be there.”

“Leo--”

“And it might be good for you to meet these people,” he forced Josh into letting him finish before he could protest. 

“The only thing I have in common with these people is that we all have someone we love getting tortured for information that they don’t have halfway across the world,” Josh spat at him, unable to really regulate his tone any more than he could regulate the way his heart was beating in his chest. 

“You don’t know that they’re being tortured,” Leo said tersely. 

“Yeah,” Josh snorted. “But  _ you _ do and you haven’t denied it yet.” 

Leo chewed on his words for a moment. “Josh--”

“I know, I know,” he shook his head at himself as if that was promise enough that he wouldn’t say something quite so rash in front of their visitors. 

Leo let out a slow but heavy sigh, and Josh could feel his pity slipping across the desk between them and into his own lap. 

“Go hear the President out,” Leo said, and it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Meet these people, get out of your office, and-- for the love of God-- eat something.” 

“Can you still give me orders if I’m on a leave of absence?” Josh deadpanned without making eye contact. 

“I like to think so,” Leo said, not physically shrugging but maintaining that sort of a tone despite himself. 

Josh took a deep breath and tried to steady his hands before he pushed himself out of the chair and onto unsteady legs. 

“Mural Room?” he confirmed, already walking past Leo and out of his office. 

“Yeah,” Leo responded, and then, as Josh was just about to cross the threshold into the bullpen: “Kid?”

“What?” Josh sighed, turning to look at him. 

“I’m around.”

Josh nodded, not having the energy to be grateful for the support as he trudged down the hall and towards his destination. He realized halfway there that he hadn’t put on his suit jacket and that the sleeves of his shirt were sloppily rolled up to his elbows, collar open and tie askew from hours of having nothing to do but stare out the window and fidget. 

He made the decision to not worry about it, but started to regret that choice when he entered the room and a small group of anxious people turned to look at him, frozen in the doorway and looking like death warmed over. 

Josh felt like maybe he was supposed to say something as the Deputy Chief of Staff, that he was supposed to be acting as a representative for the President and the White House because that was his instinct. But then he remembered what Leo said, that he was  _ Donna’s _ representative in that room, so he nodded mutely and took a seat as far from everyone else as possible, crossing his legs and staring at his own shoe. 

“You’re Private Moss’s fiancé, right?” 

Josh looked up at the woman who had asked, middle aged with bloodshot eyes. He was caught off guard by someone breaking the tense silence. 

“Yeah,” he croaked in response before clearing his throat. “I am.”

“We’re Al’s parents,” she offered quietly. 

“Good to meet you,” Josh nodded, even though they all knew that avoiding that particular meeting altogether would have been ideal. 

“You work here, right?” a young woman sitting at the couch across from him asked. “The news has been saying that you’re one of the President’s advisors?”

“I… Um, yeah,” Josh said. He didn’t have the energy to elaborate more than that, and didn’t understand why it was relevant. 

“I don’t know whether I’m more surprised that you let him send in troops or that you let her go,” she said: simple and blunt and enough to flip Josh’s switch from numb to verging on pissed off. 

He clenched his jaw and looked at her with a baffled expression, knowing that she must be Corporal Hanney’s wife and trying to give her the benefit of the doubt but needing to defend his people nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry?” he said, unaware of where he could even begin to explain the situation to her. Josh was heartbroken just like the rest of them and understood the need for someone to blame, but couldn’t stand to have his and Donna’s decisions attacked by someone who knew nothing about them. 

“You have a loved one in the military and you’re still able to justify sending troops into a violent conflict that has no effect on us,” she snapped. 

“I… Mrs. Hanney,” he floundered, gathering his thoughts in the whirlwind of a conversation which had him talking more than anyone else had managed in at least twelve hours. “I don’t advise on foreign policy. This wasn’t my decision.”

She just looked at him, and he couldn’t shake how betrayed she seemed.

“But I do believe it was the right call,” he continued, quieter. 

“How can you say that?” she accused with tears in her eyes. 

Josh’s lungs felt as though they had gotten smaller, forcing him to consciously take slower breaths in order to actually absorb enough oxygen to keep his brain functioning at even a fraction of the speed it normally would. He uncrossed his arms and pressed his palms into the tops of his thighs, trying to prove that he wasn’t being defensive and trying to prove that his words were honest.

“Because people are being hurt in ways that are unimaginable to us,” he said softly, hating how difficult it was to concentrate on keeping eye contact with any of them. “And we have the resources to maybe actually  _ help _ some of those people, to help bring an end to a genocide that’s happening on our planet, on our watch.”

“Do you think these soldiers-- these  _ people-- _ are resources, Mr. Lyman?” Diane Hanney asked with so much hurt in her voice that Josh really didn’t have it in him to fight with her. “Do you see your  _ fiancée _ as a resource?”

“No,” he said simply, and then, after a moment of consideration: “Actually-- I’m sorry, yes. I do.”

Diane sniffed hard at that and he chose not to notice because not a single person in that room was fooling anybody with how close to tears they all were.

“Donna-- Private Moss, um…” he swallowed thickly as he tried to explain himself. “She  _ wanted _ to go to Kundu. I mean, the minute we started seeing images from the conflict, she was hounding me as to why we hadn’t sent in aid yet. She cares for humanity so fully that she’s willing to put herself on the line to pull it back from the brink, so yeah,” he let out a humorless laugh. “I think she might just be the most valuable resource to ever walk the Earth.” 

 

\---

 

_ Donna had never been to a ball before. _

_ The word “ball” itself conjured images of princesses and magic and sparkling fairy lights hanging from canopies of ivy, and although she didn’t  _ actually _ expect any of those things at an Inaugural Ball, she was slightly disappointed to not find any of them.  _

_ She was, of course, wearing her dress uniform instead of a ball gown, holding a glass of champagne as she watched the festivities whirl around her, and she supposed it was magical in its own sort of way.  _

_ It had been impossible to miss the freshly inaugurated President’s entrance just a handful of minutes prior, and sometime during all the bustle, Donna had found herself a patch of wall to lean against and fade into the background.  _

_ Her eyes scanned the party and, although she’d never admit it, she was searching for one senior staffer in particular-- the one that had made her laugh and broken her position-induced propriety. She couldn’t seem to find him in the crowd.  _

_ “Who are we looking for?” _

_ Donna almost jumped out of her skin when his voice, quiet and teasing, filtered into her ears. She turned to look at him with wide eyes, immediately schooling her posture to one of a bit more class and grace.  _

_ “Mr. Lyman,” she said, unable to keep the surprise out of her tone. “Hi.” _

_ Smooth.  _

_ “Hi,” he grinned at her. “I was wondering if I’d see you here.” _

_ “Really?” she asked, sounding a little bit more like a high schooler with a crush than a twenty-eight year old member of the armed forces. “You remember me?” _

_ “Any woman that manages to successfully distract Toby Ziegler during a speech sticks in my memory,” he said, a little bit cheeky and a little bit sincere too.  _

_ Donna nodded appreciatively, hiding her smile behind her glass as she took a sip of champagne.  _

_ “You enjoying the party?” he asked without ever taking his eyes off of her.  _

_ “It’s supposed to be a  _ ball,” _ she said with a tone of dissatisfaction.  _

_ “You’re not impressed?” he raised his eyebrows with disbelief.  _

_ “There are balloons,” she motioned vaguely to the floor.  _

_ “You don’t like balloons?” _

_ “I like balloons just fine,” she said mock-defensively. “I just think a ball should be a little more… high class.” _

_ “You do, huh?” he asked with a chuckle. “Is it the balloons that are bothering you or the new President?” _

_ Donna looked him right in the eye, cocked her head to the side, and grinned with the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth. It seemed as if Josh Lyman was looking for a sparring match he could win.  _

_ She was going to do him one better.  _

_ “I’m going to tell you a secret, Mr. Lyman,” she said, leaning just a hair closer to him so their shoulders were barely brushing. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a slight smirk gracing his lips and amusement in his eyes.  _

_ “You can call me Josh, you know.” _

_ “I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” she responded, tongue in cheek.  _

_ “Oh, come on,” he chuckled.  _

_ “Do you want to know my secret or not?” she shot him a look.  _

_ “What’s your secret, Private Moss?” he deadpanned as she took a sip of champagne.  _

_ She leaned over even closer and feigned covering her mouth with her hand, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial level. Josh ate it up.  _

_ “I’m not a registered republican,” she whispered to him and he stood up straight, looking at her with equal parts curiosity and intrigue.  _

_ “Independent?” he accused. “You out there splitting the vote?” _

_ She finally looked at him right in the eye, Cheshire cat grin spreading across her cheeks which had pinkened just from the one glass of champagne she’d already had.  _

_ “Democrat,” she shrugged smugly.  _

_ Josh’s jaw dropped but he didn’t-- seemingly couldn’t-- take his eyes off of her.  _

_ Donna had to look away and lift her glass to her lips to stifle a laugh. “You’re so turned on right now,” she muttered just low enough that only Josh could hear her over the music. She could practically feel him blushing through the jacket of his tux.  _

_ “You think liars get me going?” he asked, unable to keep the slight squeak and thick swallow out of his voice.  _

_ “I never lied to you,” Donna furrowed her brow at him mockingly. “It’s against the code.” _

_ “The Uniform Code or the Donna Moss Code?” he cocked his head to the side, finding some of his obnoxious swagger once more.  _

_ She pretended to contemplate the question for a moment which only seemed to amuse him further. “Both,” she eventually said simply. “You just made a faulty assumption about me because I’m a member of the armed forces.” _

_ “I made an educated guess,” he brushed her off but not unkindly, taking a sip from his own drink. “Based on the military personnel I’ve had dealings with in the past.” _

_ “You don’t know anything about me or my choice to join the service,” Donna pointed out. “I might very well be more liberal than you.” _

_ “Why did you enlist?” he asked, turning his body, leaning his shoulder against the wall, and giving up any precedent that his attention was on anything or anyone other than Donna Moss.  _

_ She looked at him skeptically, because it wasn’t often that she got that question, and it wasn’t often that she wanted to be fully and completely honest with the person asking it. But she did, she so wanted to lay out her life story for him in a picture book, maybe even add a couple of pop-up pages for the most interesting parts.  _

_ “Why did you go into politics?” she asked instead, deflecting just long enough to gather herself around the far too intense feelings that man instilled in between her ribs. “To help people?” she teased.  _

_ “I’ve always had a lot of opinions about how the world was run,” he shrugged earnestly. “Figured I’d put my money where my mouth was and try to fix it.”  _

_ Donna’s heart was warm, and she could feel every individual beat of it in the pads of her fingers where they slid against the condensation of her glass. It was a good answer, and his eyes were so open and big and wonderful and she had never quite understood the definition of  _ smitten _ before that moment.  _

_ “Good answer,” she said, unable to keep some of those feelings out of her voice and just hoping he was too tipsy to actually notice.  _

_ “Your turn,” he smiled at her, and she stopped caring if he noticed.  _

_ “I want to go to college,” she said simply, quieter than the teasing and the flirting of before but loud enough that he didn’t miss a single word of it. Maybe he was as rapt to her presence as she was to his. “These guys are gonna make that happen for me,” she motioned vaguely to the military personnel that surrounded them. _

_ “Why’d you drop out the first time?” he immediately asked.  _

_ She raised her eyebrows at him. “How do you know I ever went at all?” _

_ “Girl like you is the kind of person that-- I dunno-- makes SAT flashcards for fun and takes a class in every department because she’s so excited just to be in college,” he rattled the thought of it off as though it was no big deal but Donna was baffled by its accuracy, baffled by him. _

“Woman _ like me, thank you very much,” she deflected. “I’m a grown adult.” _

_ “I was counting on it,” he said cheekily, granting him a light smack on the arm to which he reacted with a melodramatic gasp through is laughter. “Come on, who’d you drop out for?” _

_ “Excuse me?” she asked through her own laughter.  _

_ “Boyfriend?” he suggested with a quirk of his mouth that really had her attention.  _

_ “That question is of a personal nature, Mr. Lyman,” she turned to look back over the bustling party.  _

_ “Oh, are we back to that?” he asked with mock disappointment.  _

_ “If you’re gonna make me talk about Dr. Freeride, then yeah,” she fired right back. He cackled at that.  _

_ “Dr. Freeride?” he nearly yelled, and Donna was grateful the music was loud. “Let me guess: med student?” _

_ “Maybe.” _

_ “Older than you?” _

_ “Of course,” she shrugged as though it was obvious. _

_ “Made you drop out and pay the bills ‘til he finished his residency?” Josh questioned.  _

_ “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?” she teased.  _

_ “So, why’d he break up with you?” he ignored her quip.  _

_ “I know you haven’t spent much time with me, Josh--” _

_ “Ha! You called me Josh!” _

_ “But,” she pressed onward with a roll of her eyes. “What makes you think he broke up with me?”  _

_ He grinned at her and she gave him a cocky smile that she knew would look more comical than sexy, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he smiled even wider.  _

_ “Did they tell you where you’re going to be stationed?” Josh asked.  _

_ “Fort Mcnair,” said in what she hoped was a relaxed tone. Josh’s eyes got bigger.  _

_ “That’s in…” _

_ “The District,” she couldn’t help but smile softly at him. “About twenty minutes from here.”  _

_ “You’re stationed in DC,” he leaned just the slightest bit into her, bumping her shoulder with his own. It wasn’t a question. _

_ “Unless your guy decides to deploy me,” Donna bumped him back.  _

_ “Are you allowed to refer to your Commander in Chief so colloquially?” he furrowed his brow at her, and even though Donna could tell he wasn’t being serious, her eyes got wider at the call out. “Hey, no,” he quickly reached out and placed a hand on her lower back. “I was kidding, I’m not gonna tell on you.” _

_ Josh had big hands, she noticed. Warm hands, steady hands, and one of them was pressed into her lower back and she didn’t want it to ever move. Since starting boot camp, Donna hadn’t felt particularly feminine, and with all of the teasing, all of the flirting, all of Donna’s own comical version of performing femininity, she felt good.  _

_ “You know,” she leaned into his touch and watched her thumb run circles around the lip of her glass. “I’m not fully moved into the area yet.” _

_ “Yeah?” he raised his eyebrows at her.  _

_ “I’m staying in this hotel at the moment,” she said, clearly trying to lead him somewhere. She was grateful when he caught on.  _

_ “A hotel?” he questioned. “That’s no way to treat our troops.”  _

_ “That’s what I’m saying,” she said with overplayed exasperation. Josh was hanging onto every word of it and pulled her just a hair closer by her waist. “If only there was some kind-hearted citizen who would offer up their home to a member of our nation’s--” _

_ “Okay,” Josh cut her off, laughing outright at that point but not pulling even an inch away from her. “How often does this work for you?” _

_ “This is the first time I’ve tried it,” she said, instilling the words with as much flirtatious energy as she could muster, subtlety be damned. “You tell me.”  _

_ He studied her for a moment, something like enchantment in his eyes.  _

_ “I have one more ball to attend,” Josh said, quieter now, more serious but with just as much energy behind it. “If I give you a key to my apartment are you going to ransack the place?”  _

_ Donna smirked at him. “I’m pretty sure that would be against at least one of the codes.”  _

_ “Well, thank God for that,” he grinned, already pulling a key out of his pocket and pressing it inconspicuously into the palm of her hand. “Because I’m pretty sure I would’ve given you this either way.”  _

_ “Happy Inauguration, Josh,” Donna grinned.  _

 

\---

 

“They’re here?” the President asked, stepping inside from the portico and passing Debbie’s desk. 

“Yes, sir,” she responded quickly. 

“Who are they?” he asked, knowing that to the naked eye he was concealing his personal feelings about that particular conflict and that particular hostage situation and that particular  _ hostage.  _

“Diane Hanney, Esteban and Louisa Hernandez,” Debbie listed off quickly before hesitating. “And… And Josh, sir.” 

The President paused outside the door to the Mural Room and let out a heavy breath. 

“We got Josh out of his office?” he asked quietly.

“With a little bit of effort,” Debbie responded, matching him tone for tone. 

“And her parents?” he questioned. 

“Josh said her mother is deathly afraid of flying,” Debbie explained softly. “I believe they’re waiting until there’s any news to make their way out here.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, turning the knob without giving himself time to hesitate or ruminate on any of it and entering the room swiftly. 

And then there they were-- four people rendered speechless with strife and tense with unimaginable terror-- and it was his job to explain the situation to them, to explain why their children and their spouses had been lost under his command. 

Josh was seated at the chair farthest from the door, isolating himself from the rest of the group and looking as if he might very well combust at any moment. Jed would have thought he was practically catatonic, but he was the first one to stand once the President walked in, so apparently some autopilot mode of his brain was still functioning at the very least. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Jed Bartlet,” he said, voice unwavering as he strode towards the small group as though he wasn’t thinking about his entire staff, every member of which could have sat in that room and rightfully claimed a spot as a member of Private Moss’s family. 

He shook the hands of every one of them-- Louisa Hernandez with her teary eyes, her husband with his sweaty palms, and Diane Hanney who couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. As he shook Josh’s hand, he wondered if the younger man even realized that he had never looked quite so disheveled in the presence of the President. Two campaigns won and four years in the White House and Josh Lyman had never fallen into quite such a sight of disarray as he did on that day. 

Jed wasn’t sure how to begin after that once he had managed to get them all seated, so he took a breath and clasped his hands in his lap and was about to speak--

“No one can tell us anything,” Diane said, hesitant and on the brink of defeated but determined nonetheless. “The picture-- Is it real?”

“Yeah,” Jed nodded. “It was taken off of Kundunese TV.”

Another beat of silence passed and Jed could see Josh retreating into himself, almost unwilling to speak up about this in front of the President-- his boss, who shouldn’t have to see him in this context. 

“They’ve, um,” Esteban Hernandez spoke up with a shaky voice. “They’ve been beaten?” 

Josh shifted in his seat. The boy was far too easy to read. 

“I’m afraid so, sir,” Jed said. “We’re currently negotiating for Red Cross access to get them medical attention.” 

“Where are they being held?” Louisa asked, reaching out and gripping onto her husband’s hand with white knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” Jed shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Do you know?” Diane asked. “I mean, do you know where they’re…”

She trailed off, but didn’t back down.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that either,” he responded soberly. 

“But  _ something _ is being done to get them back,” Esteban spoke up with an urgency only attainable by a parent in fear of outliving his child. It was striking. 

“Mr. Hernandez,” Jed continued, hating how little he could do for these people and feeling like an empty suit when he was meant to be offering some level of comfort. “I can only imagine…”

“You can’t tell us that either?” Diane cut him off, and it was more of a statement than a question, more of an exasperated understanding of her current position than anything else. 

“No ma’am,” Jed shook his head. “I can’t.”

 

\---

 

_ “I can’t,” Josh said, changing his shirt on one side of his cracked office door while his assistant Carrie stood right outside. _

_ “This meeting has been on the books all week, Josh,” she sighed. _

_ “Yeah, but if you think for a second  _ they’re _ not gonna cancel the minute they get wind of this--” _

_ “The Senator is going to be seriously annoyed with you,” Carrie said. _

_ “Well, he can join the club,” Josh deadpanned. “I hear they’re getting buttons soon.” _

_ “Very funny,” Carrie said with exasperation, but Josh was barely paying attention because he was definitely running late and his phone had just started ringing.  _

_ “Carrie, just cancel the meeting,” Josh said and opened the door so he could see her.  _

_ “Fine,” she grumbled, and Josh wondered why every assistant in the West Wing was so stubborn. Really. What were they putting in the water.  _

_ “Are you gonna get the phone?” he called out after her and she shot him a look over her shoulder, picking it up with a roll of her eyes.  _

_ “Josh Lyman,” she said, but her face brightened as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Hi, Donna how are you… No way!... Oh my gosh, that’s so funny--” _

_ “Carrie!” Josh groaned, suddenly having the urge to bang his forehead against the wall a couple of times.  _

_ “Okay, Donna, I’m sending him out to meet you now,” Carrie kept her voice light but scowled melodramatically at Josh. “But you’ll have to tell me about that later… Have a good day!” _

_ “I’ll be back in an hour,” Josh said, striding past Carrie as she hung up the phone.  _

_ “If the Senator calls--” _

_ “I’ll be back in an hour!” Josh yelled over his shoulder.  _

_ He walked quickly towards the exit and out through the gates of the White House because there was always the (completely valid) fear that anyone might stop him for any new crisis brewing at any moment and Donna Moss was waiting for him.  _

_ When he got outside, she was stretching out her quads, dressed in her running shorts and what he was pretty sure was one of his own Harvard t-shirts, and the sight of her alone brightened his strained day. _

_ “Hi,” he said, grinning as he stopped beside her and making her turn to look at him.  _

_ “Hey, you,” she smiled right back, placing a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. “Ready to go?” _

_ “Are you sure you don’t want to, I don’t know, go to lunch at a restaurant or something?” he asked with a hopeful lilt to his voice. “You know, like a regular couple?” _

_ “The only place in DC you can eat lunch without getting overrun by members of Congress is inside your office with your door closed,” Donna laughed, switching legs and continuing to stretch. _

_ “We could absolutely eat lunch in my office with the door closed,” he smirked. “The doors even  _ lock.”

_ “Joshua,” Donna deadpanned.  _

_ “I know, I know,” he brushed her off. “You have to put on your dress uniform to come inside the White House-- but that doesn’t mean we need to go for a run!” _

_ Donna laughed at him, because despite his insistence that he didn’t want to be a part of her workout, she was already pulling him by his hand for a few feet until they reached a brisk jog and he was right by her side without any resistance.  _

_ Because in reality, both of them liked to go on runs together. It genuinely was one of the only ways that they could escape Josh’s work and it gave Donna a chance to exercise outside the gaze of her fellow soldiers and superiors back at the base, something that Josh had learned very quickly was its own brand of unnerving to her as a woman in the military.  _

_ Most of all, at four months of dating Josh and Donna were realizing that moments like that, when they could just talk about their days and laugh and enjoy each other’s company were hard to come by.  _

_ If Josh had to go on a run to spend time with her, he was going to become the fastest man on the planet.  _

 

\---

 

The President explained information that Josh was already aware of while he sat there with the families of hostages in a conflict Josh had urged him to enter. 

That is to say, the President dodged questions that none of them had clearance to have answers to and Josh stared at the carpet while everyone realized what he already knew far too well: they wouldn’t know anything of substance until the whole ordeal was over. 

One way or the other, none of them would know how their loved ones were doing until they were safe or dead. 

Safe or dead. 

“Excuse me,” Leo said from the doorway, and Josh hadn’t even heard him knock but finally looked up at the addition of a new voice to the conversation. “I’m sorry. Mr. President?” he motioned to the hallway subtly with a nod of his head. 

Josh recognized that particular summons and wanted nothing more than to chase them both out of the room and on their inevitable path to the Situation Room. 

“They don’t know anything,” Diane said quietly, more to herself than to the room at large. 

“No, they just can’t tell us,” Louisa said with a forced sort of hope. 

“Where did he go?” Diane asked. “I mean, we were in the middle of-- And he just-- What does that mean?”

Josh bit down on the inside of his cheek as his three companions turned to look at him because they wanted him-- expected him-- to have the answers they so desperately needed and all  _ he _ wanted to do was scream. 

He focused on breathing slowly and clasped his hands tightly together. 

“Usually,” he said, having to clear his throat from disuse and emotion in equal measure. “It means something is happening.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> josh was always in too good of shape for his onscreen diet and work hours and going on runs with the love of his life is my way of justifying that


	3. To Have Her Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Off the record?” CJ confirmed with lifted eyebrows that said if you screw me on this I’ll end you.
> 
> “Of course,” Danny said in an exhausted huff of breath. 
> 
> “Danny, he’s…” she chewed on her words, trying to swallow all the emotion stuck in her throat, trying not to think about the concerns she had regarding a PTSD flare up or the lack of food and water he was currently consuming. “If she doesn’t come home, I don’t think he’ll ever come back from it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i continue to be the worst at making time to respond to comments but just know that if you've commented i appreciate you <3

_ “We’re gonna go have her back.” _

That’s what the President had said on Inauguration night, that was what he’d said once the decision had been made to send troops to Kundu, and it was what Private Donna Moss said the morning she kissed Josh goodbye and left in fatigues and combat boots. 

At some point, Josh had stopped caring about the faceless  _ her _ that they spoke of and at some point he had started wondering if Donna was there to have  _ her _ back then who was going to have Donna’s back? Who was going to rush in and save her from whatever horror she was almost certainly stuck in?

Josh had asked her to marry him and although they hadn’t gotten so far as to make it official, he figured that  _ husband-to-be _ was title enough to mean that it was  _ his _ responsibility to have her back. 

But he was sitting in the Mural Room without any new information and listening to Louisa Hernandez cry instead. 

Josh had promised a long time ago to never hold Donna Moss back-- not from her career or her education or her independence-- and he knew that if she came home at the end of all of this that he would follow her wherever she wanted to go. 

Of that, at least, he was certain. 

 

\---

 

Donna wasn’t certain of when it had happened, but at some point she stopped being able to form any sort of verbal response to the questions she was being asked. 

Her head was foggier than it had ever been and the pain was so all-encompassing that she couldn’t properly place any of her injuries, sure only of the fact that her body felt like it was falling apart. 

When she tried to focus on breathing, it only reminded her of the way her ribs might have been pointing in the wrong direction, and if she tried to shift her weight from one knee to another she always whimpered loud enough to draw attention back to her which she was trying to avoid at all costs. 

In the end, she was grateful for the handful of times she’d fallen unconscious, because she didn’t know how long she had been missing but it felt like a lifetime. 

It felt like a lifetime and she was starting to lose hope. 

 

\---

 

“CJ, wait up!”

CJ glanced over her shoulder and let out a heavy sigh but didn’t stop walking towards her office. 

“Go back to the press office, Danny,” she ordered. “I don’t have time for you right now.”

“I want to talk about Kundu,” he insisted, matching her stride down the hallway. 

“Wow, I never would have guessed,” CJ deadpanned. 

“CJ--”

“Want me to ring up the President?” she mocked humorlessly. “Get him to tell you military secrets for the sake of your column?”

“That’d be great,” Danny fired right back as they entered her office, standing across the desk from her while she sifted through files and notes. 

“I said everything I have to say at the briefing already, Danny,” CJ said without meeting his eyes. 

“I know,” Danny responded simply. 

“Then would you get outta my office?” she snapped, talking with the free hand that wasn’t flipping through something that she was definitely not actually reading. 

“CJ, Donna Moss is--”

“Okay, you have got to back off,” CJ insisted harshly, shooting him a look because her heart was breaking and she had to, had to,  _ had to _ keep moving.

Danny just looked at her for a beat of tense quiet as he visually gathered his thoughts. CJ didn’t back down from her stance. 

“How’s he holding up?” Danny asked quietly and CJ’s face fell as she collapsed into her chair. 

“Danny,” she sighed. “I can’t… The White House does not comment on the personal lives of--”

“Jesus, Ceej, I’m off the record,” Danny implored. “I’m here as a friend.”

CJ studied his face, knew that he was being honest but needing to see confirmation for herself because while it may have been Josh’s job to worry about Donna, it was CJ’s job to worry about Josh. It was her job to protect him and have his back and make sure that he only had to deal with the one tragedy for the time being. 

“Off the record?” she confirmed with lifted eyebrows that said  _ if you screw me on this I’ll end you. _

“Of course,” Danny said in an exhausted huff of breath. 

“Danny, he’s…” she chewed on her words, trying to swallow all the emotion stuck in her throat, trying not to think about the concerns she had regarding a PTSD flare up or the lack of food and water he was currently consuming. “If she doesn’t come home, I don’t think he’ll ever come back from it.” 

Danny took in a sharp breath through his nose and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” CJ breathed. 

  
  


\---

 

_ “Coffee’s on the table!” Donna called out as she took a seat in Josh’s kitchen with her own coffee warming her hands and the Washington Post open and spread out across piles of magazines and keys and mail on the table.  _

_ “What time is it?” Josh yelled back from his bedroom, voice accompanied by the sounds of stumbling and the clattering of something falling off the dresser. It made Donna grin with amusement into her mug.  _

_ “You’ve got seven minutes to get out of here!” she said, words juxtaposed by her own nonchalance.  _

_ She flipped the page in the paper and took a slow sip of her coffee just as Josh rushed into the kitchen and skidded to a halt next to where she was sat at the table.  _

_ He let out a breath. _

_ “Good morning,” he said, quieter now as he leaned forward, cradling the nape of her neck and kissing her chastely once on the lips.  _

_ “Good morning,” she said, pulling away with a smile as he collapsed into the seat next to hers and started pulling on his shoes.  _

_ “Thanks for the coffee,” he said sincerely.  _

_ “I put full fat milk in it today,” she said almost smugly.  _

_ “Really?” he looked up at her with raised eyebrows and an amused grin.  _

_ “Figured today was worth celebrating,” she shrugged but Josh beamed at her.  _

_ “Yeah, I agree,” he leaned forward and kissed her once more, longer this time and more intentional.  _

_ “Happy Inauguration,” she said as she ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down a little bit where it was sticking up on top.  _

_ “Happy anniversary,” he responded in a breath of what almost sounded like awe. It made Donna’s heart do a familiar sort of dance in her chest, but she forced herself to glance at the clock on the wall behind his head.  _

_ “You’ve gotta get going,” she said with a melancholy smile.  _

_ “I’m gonna see you later right?” he asked with just a tint of genuine concern on top, as if they hadn’t made their plans weeks in advance.  _

_ “I’ll be in the audience for the speech,” she said, pushing him out of his chair gently. “And I’ll see you at the balls tonight.”  _

_ “Okay,” he got to his feet, still bent at the waist to kiss her again. “Okay,” he picked up his to-go mug of coffee and gave her a smile as he backed out of the kitchen towards the front door.  _

_ Donna scanned the headlines in the paper as she listened to the familiar sounds of Josh gathering his things in the living room.  _

_ The New York City Ballet was to perform at the Kennedy Center that week, they were having a significantly colder winter than usual, and the situation in Kundu was continuing to escalate without US aid.  _

_ “Hey, Donna?” Josh called out from the other room and Donna rolled her eyes.  _

_ “Yeah?” she yelled back without getting up.  _

_ “There’s one more thing before I go,” he responded, and she could hear him zipping up his backpack.  _

_ “What’s that?” _

_ “Just come here for a second, would you?” he replied with just enough exasperation in his tone that Donna grabbed her mug and trudged to the doorway, peeking out of the kitchen to watch him just finish throwing his coat on.  _

_ “You’re gonna be late,” she teased as she leaned in the door frame with her warm mug cradled against her chest.  _

_ “No, I’m not,” he shook his head, a smile on his face. There was a nervousness there, but Donna couldn’t puzzle out why exactly that might be. _

_ “What do you need?” she deadpanned as she pushed a few messy strands of hair out of her face. She was still in her pajamas, still rumpled from sleep, and still waiting for the sun to rise.  _

_ Josh studied her for a moment with a softness in his eyes, all dark circles and coffee breath and crooked tie. Sometimes when Donna looked at him in moments like that, when the rest of the world was quiet and he came to a sudden halt amongst all their regular, comfortable chaos, she couldn’t help but fall a little bit more in love.  _

_ Josh tucked his hands in his coat pockets, cocked his head to the side, and grinned.  _

_ “You wanna get married?” _

_ Donna’s face morphed from one of amusement to one of shock and then almost immediately she fell into fits of boisterous laughter. As out of the blue as it may have seemed, it felt like the most natural way he could have asked. They had never had the type of relationship that built its foundation on bold declarations, but instead on nearly-blunt honesty, on mutual respect, and on a shared sense of humor.  _

_ “What,” Donna asked, laughter still in her voice. “Right now?”  _

_ Josh just grinned at her as he pulled a small black box out of his coat pocket and tossed it across the small room at her in one fluid motion. Donna caught it with her free hand and a look of bafflement on her face.  _

_ “You’re serious,” she said, unable to ignore the bubble of joy bursting in her stomach and radiating out across the rest of her body.  _

_ “Go ahead,” he nodded to the ring box but Donna just stared at him in some attempt to take her own mental picture of the moment, lit only by the soft glow of lamps as the sun struggled to rise outside their little self-made home.  _

_ “Josh…” she breathed, tears situating themselves at the backs of her eyes.  _

_ “Here,” he took a few steps so he was stood directly in front of her and gently took the box out of her hands. “I’ll help you with that.” _

_ She didn’t take her eyes off of his flushed cheeks as he opened the box and delicately took out the ring. He held it up and met her gaze as he set the box, and then the coffee mug she was still holding, on the small end table next to them.  _

_ “Will you marry me?” he asked quietly.  _

_ “You’re gonna be late,” she responded, voice full of emotion that didn’t match the words her tongue was forming.  _

_ “Only if you keep finding ways to dodge the question,” he said with a soft laugh.  _

_ Donna took a deep breath and let it out with a teary laugh. “Yes,” she said, all smiles and joy and amusement.  _

_ “Yes?” he raised his eyebrows with a soft hopefulness pouring out of him.  _

_ “I wanna marry you,” she nodded vigorously until Josh cut off her movement with his free hand at the nape of her neck and a sound kiss to her lips. It was sloppy and awkward because both of them were smiling and laughing and little bit teary, but it was beautiful nonetheless.  _

_ “Let me see that,” Donna said as she pulled away, wrapping her fingers around Josh’s wrist and holding up the ring to finally take it in.  _

_ Her jaw went slack and her eyes got bigger at the sight of it, a single and simple stone made beautiful by a vintage setting, an intricately designed band that looked like it had been made just for her.  _

_ “I was going to do this later. At the ball,” Josh explained, almost sheepish but not quite as he slipped it onto her finger. “But I decided I didn’t want to share this with a bunch of DC elitists.” _

_ Donna laughed and looked back up to look at him as he looked at the ring on her finger.  _

_ “And when did you decide this?” she asked, tone teasing but eyes joyful.  _

_ “Just, uh…” he reached peak sheepishness. “Just now?” _

_ Donna let out a surprised laugh at the look on his face, but something about his honesty made her wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him full-force, no longer preoccupied with the fact that he was most definitely going to be late to his first meeting of the day. His arms held her tight around her waist and he kissed back with equal enthusiasm.  _

_ Donna felt like they had forever ahead of them.  _

 

\---

 

“They fly in on two apaches and a black hawk,” Fitzwallace said to the population of the Situation Room at large. “Twenty men forcibly secure the perimeter of the barracks. A snatch force of six men penetrate and take the captives.”

“What about resistance?” Leo asked and Jed watched on, just trying to absorb all of the new information.

“Well,” Fitzwallace continued with his explanation. “They’re gonna subdue sentries and visible guards. They’ve got heavy sniper rifles and the CIA wet team.”

“What’s the timetable?” Leo leaned his hands forward on the table where he was standing with his gaze locked on the screens at the other end of the room. 

“Forty-seven minutes to get there from the President’s order,” Fitzwallace confirmed. “Two hours to get it done.”

“Why a wet team?” the President finally chimed in once the bulk of the details seemed to be presented. 

“Excuse me, sir?” Fitzwallace asked. 

“Why the CIA wet team?” Jed repeated. “They’re not near water.”

“No, sir. It’s called a wet team…” he paused, chewing on his words. “It’s called a wet team because it’s bloody.” 

Jed let out a breath and tried to refocus his brain from the image of Josh-- his son-- upstairs in an armchair while his heart was stuck somewhere in captivity halfway around the world. 

“I had to ask,” he muttered to himself. And then, with a forced composure: “What’s it called?”

“Task Force Dawn Sky.”

The President contemplated it for a brief moment, considered the pros and cons and advice he’d been receiving since the whole ordeal began. 

And then he nodded. 

“Go.” 

 

\---

 

_ “Come in!” Josh called out without looking up from his work, pen cap still trapped between his teeth as he listened to the door open and close. “Is there something new with the— Donna?” he finally looked up from his desk, pulled the pen cap out from between his teeth, and saw her. _

_ “Hi,” she gave him a small smile from the other side of the room and it was off-putting to have so much distance between them, it was off-putting that she was even in his office to begin with, dress uniform and all.  _

_ “Hey,” he grinned at her, pushing out of his chair and around to the other side of the desk so he could place a short and sweet kiss on her lips. “You came to visit.” _

_ “Yeah,” she said quietly, and although she was smiling Josh could tell that something was up.  _

_ “Is everything okay?” he asked, hands squeezing her waist slightly as his brow furrowed. _

_ “Yeah, of course,” she brushed him off. “I just wanted to talk to you about something. Carrie said you had a couple of minutes free right now?” _

_ “You checked my schedule with my assistant?” he teased, trying to push down the paranoia that immediately enveloped him.  _

_ “What, it’s not like  _ you _ know it,” she joked back. Josh knew her well enough to see that her heart wasn’t quite in it.  _

_ There was a beat of silence in which Donna couldn’t meet his eye and Josh chewed on his words, trying to puzzle out what exactly was going on just by studying her face.  _

_ “Donna, what’s wrong?” he eventually said simply, more of a demand for answers than a question, but also not without a certain level of concern.  _

_ “Let’s sit down,” she tried to move past him but he held onto her wrist and turned so he was still stood directly in front of her.  _

_ “Donna.” _

_ His face was serious when she finally looked up and met his eye, and Josh watched as she schooled her expression to one of neutrality. It was an expression he’d seen her use in front of her superiors, it was an expression she used when she needed people to understand her position in the military, and it was  _ not _ an expression she had ever used during a conversation with him.  _

_ “The President decided to deploy troops to Kundu,” she said, voice professional and matter of fact.  _

_ “Yeah, I know,” Josh began to brush her off without thinking. “I was going to tell you later but I wasn’t allowed to say anything until it was…” he trailed off as realization passed behind his eyes.  _

Until it was made public.

_ “Josh--” _

_ “Please tell me you have a good reason for having classified military intel before we’ve told the press,” Josh deadpanned, trying to keep himself from retching up his own heart muscle.  _

_ “This morning I received an assignment--” _

_ “No,” Josh cut her off with a shake of his head and a shaky step backwards. Suddenly it was a little bit more difficult to breathe and suddenly his entire vision was taken up by her face, everything on the periphery going grey and out of focus. _

_ “Listen to me, please--” _

_ “I don’t want to,” he said with a humorless laugh.  _

_ “I’m being deployed to Kundu the day after tomorrow,” she said quietly and in complete defiance of Josh’s denial.  _

_ She was the model of professionalism but Josh could see just the slightest hint of fear behind all the eternal determination and it made him all the more anxious.  _

_ “Okay,” he nodded once before running his hands through his hair and letting it stick up at the ends. “Okay, so what’s our next step…” _

_ “Josh--” _

_ “I’ll call somebody,” he continued, more to himself than to Donna as he crossed back to the other side of his desk and started flipping through a directory of phone numbers. “I just have to remind them of who I am and we can get you out of this--” _

_ “You can’t do that--” _

_ “I’ll just call Fitzwallace and have him--” Josh’s voice was shaking as he reached for the phone. “I’ll have him--” _

_ “Joshua,” Donna spoke up softly as she rested a gentle but steady hand on top of his where he was gripping the neck of the phone with white knuckles.  _

_ He let out an unstable breath as he looked at their hands, at the ring on her fourth finger and the way it looked duller in the dim light of his office. Josh loved her. He loved Donna Moss more than he’d ever thought he could love another human being and he was just staring at where their hands were touching and thinking about the fact that he wouldn’t know how to keep living without her.  _

_ Josh was quite certain, in fact, that there would be no him without her.  _

_ “It’s not safe,” he said hoarsely as tears settled in his throat.  _

_ “Will you look at me, please?” she responded quietly, and who was he to deny her? _

_ Her eyes were earnest and her shoulders were strong and he wanted to wrap himself up around her and never let go.  _

_ “You can get out of this,” he implored in one final attempt that he knew had no hope of ever changing her mind. Once Donna Moss made a decision, only God Herself could redirect her thinking.  _

_ “There are people that need help,” Donna said, moving around the desk to stand closer to him, still holding his hand and running her thumb across his knuckles. “And I have the training and opportunity to help them.” _

_ “It’s dangerous,” he said, low and insistent and ragged, volume rising with every word. “I’ve been watching the same footage that you have, Donna, and if you think for a second that I’m gonna just be okay with--” _

_ “There are mothers!” she cut him off, matching his escalating tone. “Standing in front of tanks, Josh!” _

_ “You’ve never fought in combat before!” he fired right back at her, not quite aware that the walls of his office weren’t soundproof and that his bullpen was full of people who knew a little too much about his relationship to begin with. “You have all this training, but you’ve never actually--” _

_ “Oh, but the children they’re killing have?!” she yelled with equal spite in her tone and tears in her eyes. “I am  _ trained _ for this, I  _ signed up  _ for this, I--” _

_ “You signed up for a free college education!” Josh didn’t let her finish. “You, Donna Moss, are the biggest pacifist I know and you’re telling me you’re going to be willing to go to this place and  _ kill _ these people?!” _

_ “I don’t have a choice!” she said, voice finally cracking and face beginning to crumble from its unsteady resolve.  _

_ Josh froze and let the words hang in the air between them and in that moment realized what was going to happen, realized that there was no turning back, that this was a decision she’d made long before he’d known her.  _

_ “Donna,” he breathed and took a step closer but she put a hand up and stepped back.  _

_ “I don’t have a choice,” she said, much quieter now but clearly just trying to get the words out. “And neither do you.” _

_ “I know,” he nodded once, slow.  _

_ “There are people that need help,” she pressed onwards, maybe not realizing she’d convinced him or maybe needing to reiterate it one more time for her own sake. “And the President decided that we’re going to help them, and it’s  _ my job _ to do the actual work of it, and in all likelihood I’ll be assigned to an on-base position anyway so-- so…” she wiped at her cheeks as frustrated tears fell and when Josh stepped forward that time she didn’t back away.  _

_ “I know,” he said softly and wrapped his arms around her shoulder. “Come here, I know.”  _

_ Donna let herself hold onto him tight around his waist, wrinkling his dress shirt and dislodging it slightly from where it was tucked into the waistband of his pants. His face was tucked into the crook of her shoulder where he so loved to rest, comfortable and warm and secure in her arms.  _

_ “I’ve never been in combat,” she said in a quiet voice as she pulled away, grabbing a tissue out of the box on Josh’s desk and trying to make herself presentable once more. Josh didn’t stop touching her, ran his hands across the planes of her back, over her shoulders, up her neck to cradle the nape of her neck.  _

_ “You’re gonna be okay,” he said with murmured determination. “You are so smart and so strong and you’re going to go help some people and then come back home to me. Safe and sound.”  _

_ Donna lifted her chin and met his gaze with big eyes. If she could see the fear that he was feeling, she didn’t let on, simply leaning forward to rest her forehead against his, to breathe him in, and place a tender kiss on his lips.  _

_ “You’re gonna have to take care of yourself until I get back,” she said as they pulled away, a small, melancholy  smile tugging at the edges of her lips. “Don’t let Toby pressure you into drinking too much.” _

_ “Sure thing,” he responded with a forced sort of laugh, unable to truly fake any light-heartedness.  _

_ Her face fell as she watched him try to absorb their new normal, absorb the fact that he was sending her off to a warzone when they were meant to be planning a wedding.  _

_ Josh just pulled her close to his chest again and buried his face in the crook of her neck, memorizing the feeling of her and trying not to cry.  _

_ He had a bad feeling in his gut.  _

_ He tried to ignore it.  _

  
  


\---

  
  


At some point the sun went down, sending the Mural Room into a suffocating sort of dimness. 

Josh watched Debbie turn on the lamps around the room on one of her many check-ins with them, leaving a glowing yellow path in her wake. She stopped by his chair and rested a hand on his shoulder as she addressed the small group. 

“Can I get anything for anyone?” she asked, but Josh wasn’t really listening, was focusing his energy on not trembling at the feeling of her supportive, motherly hand on his shoulder. 

Man, maybe he just really needed a hug. 

“Josh,” she leaned over to try and meet his eye. And then, when he was unresponsive, staring at the carpet: “ _ Josh.” _

“Hmm?” he looked up and met her eyes, could see the concern written all over her face as she studied him with her head tilted to the side ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Debbie-- What do you-- What can I--”

“Can I get anyone to come sit with you?” she asked in a tone of voice that Josh knew meant she’d already asked him once and he’d simply missed it. “I’m sure Toby or CJ would be more than--”

“No-- No, no, it’s okay,” he brushed her off, clearing a tightness out of his throat awkwardly. 

“Josh…” Debbie said carefully in the same cadence that Donna used the few times he’d been on the verge of a PTSD episode and refused to take his meds. The women in his life really  _ were _ the only reason he’d managed to stay upright for so many years. 

“I’m really okay,” he looked up and met her gaze, knowing the sight of his tired eyes probably wasn’t helping his case but throwing eye contact into the ring anyway. 

“They’ve been gone a long time,” Diane spoke up out of the blue, as if breaching the surface after an introspective, dissociative dive of her own. 

Debbie sat down in the chair next to Josh’s. 

“As soon as they know anything at all,” she said steadily, certainly. “I’m sure they’ll send someone.” 

“That’s not true though,” Diane said shakily. “I mean, they know a lot but they can’t tell us.”

“That’s for everyone’s safety,” Josh said, under his breath and more to the floor than to the room at large. 

He could feel Diane’s eyes on him but couldn’t find the strength to even lift his neck. Josh had felt fear before, could remember the vague sense of slowly bleeding to death, had suffered through nightmares and flashbacks and anxiety attacks that at one point in his life felt endless. 

Josh knew fear, but there was something about his current situation that was settling so differently inside his body. There was no fight or flight response, there was no anger and no overwhelming urge to scream, just the pain in his lungs and the numbness in his heart and the never ending hum of uncertainty trapped inside his skull. 

This fear was internal in ways he didn’t know how to manage. 

This fear was for someone else. 

Everyone’s heads shot up when the door clicked quietly open and stood up on barely-functioning legs at the sight of Leo, striding tall into the room. 

“Leo?” Josh croaked, catching his eye but unable to read his face. 

“They’re safe,” he responded without preamble and Josh thought his heart might give out right there on the spot. “They’re in airspace over Morocco.”

A chorus of relieved sighs filled the room and Josh scrubbed his hands over his face, vaguely acknowledging that Debbie’s hand had returned to his shoulder, squeezing once before disappearing again. 

“What happened?” Esteban asked as he held his wife in a close embrace. 

“Our Special Ops unit staged a successful rescue,” Leo said, trying to maintain eye contact with the man who had asked the question but unable to keep himself from glancing over at Josh periodically. 

Josh, who had sat back down in his chair and let his head fall into his hands. 

Josh, who was almost certainly crying. 

“They’ll be brought to a hospital at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany,” Leo continued. “And they’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll have communications set up in a few minutes so you can speak with them.” 

He was quiet for a beat then, taking in the energy in the room that was so oxygenated with pure relief he could feel it permeating every inch of him. And then he had to continue. 

“The President wishes he could be here himself,” he said with faux casualness. “But I’m afraid he’s engaged at the moment.”

Josh lifted his head and looked at Leo, because even in the ungrounded, anxiety ridden state he’d been forced to live in for hours on end, Josh could read Leo’s tone like a book. 

“What aren’t you telling us, Leo?” he asked simply, wiping away quiet tears that he hadn’t fully realized he’d been shedding but staying seated where he was for fear of his legs giving out. 

Leo shot him a look that said  _ not now, _ but Josh just stared him down. He was done being kept in the dark. 

“They’re safe, Josh,” he said insistently. 

“But something’s happened,” Josh responded, more of a statement than a question. 

Everyone’s eyes were trained on Leo. He sighed. 

“It appears there’s been a terrorist retaliation at the makeshift camp we set up in Ghana to practice for the rescue,” he said simply, but not without grave respect for what was at stake. “Seventeen staff and administrators were killed.”

Josh rested his elbows on his knees and clutched his hands together until his knuckles turned white. People had died to save her, and although Josh knew he would spend the rest of his life being grateful to those seventeen people, being indebted to them and their sacrifice, he also knew the woman he loved. 

Josh knew Donna, he knew how her brain worked, and he knew she would never forgive herself. 

“Someone will be in to take care of you,” Leo said before turning and walking out of the room once more. 

Josh took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. 

She was safe. 

She was safe, and she was coming home, and it was so very far from over. 

 

\---

 

Donna had gone too long without sleeping to be as wide awake as she was. 

She was exhausted and worn down and torn apart, but as she watched her fellow former captives settle into their seats on the plane and pass out she couldn’t even imagine closing her eyes. 

Her shoulder throbbed from having been popped back into its socket and her wrists had been hastily wrapped in temporary bandages until they could get proper medical treatment and she knew they were technically out of harm’s way, but she wanted to be back on the ground. 

Donna wanted to take a hot bath and she wanted to be able to breathe deeply and she wanted to settle down into bed with her fiance in her arms. 

Her heart was racing and her wrists hurt so badly she thought they might actually split from the rest of her body and she  _ knew _ she was safe but part of her just couldn’t accept it yet. 

Part of her wasn’t convinced. 

 

\---

 

Josh had tunnel vision as an agent led him into the small room with a secure phone line set up. There was a piece of him-- the piece that had never learned to accept that goodness sometimes happened to him-- that didn’t believe she would actually be on the other end of the line. 

There was a piece of him that was terrified it was all a big ruse, and because of that he was scared to pick up the receiver. 

“Is it…” he cleared his throat, hoarse from too many tears and too many feelings. “Is it ready to go?” he asked the agent to his right who nodded in response. 

“We have Private Moss on the line, Mr. Lyman.”

Thankfully, Josh wasn’t nearly as scared as he was desperate to hear her voice. 

His hands were shaking as he reached for the receiver and brought it to his ear. 

“Donna?” he croaked, on the verge of tears just at the mere prospect of hearing her voice. “Donna, are you there?”

“Hi,” her voice crackled through the phone connection and there was a loud hum of an airplane in the background and Josh didn’t  _ care. _ “Josh, hi-- It’s me, I’m here,” her words were frantic and the rhythm of them was uneven and Josh’s ears were straining to catch every single syllable of it. 

“God-- Oh my god--” his legs gave out and he fell into a chair that he hadn’t entirely noticed was behind him. “Are you okay? They said they’re taking you to Ramstein and-- Donna, are you okay?”

“Josh, breathe,” she insisted, words certain but voice shaky. “I’m okay, I’m gonna be okay, we’re-- we’re just making a quick stop to get checked out by some doctors and then I’ll be coming home.”

“Are you trying to comfort  _ me _ right now?” he asked, a bubble of a laugh bursting out in between small sobs. 

“Have you been eating?” she continued, and Josh started to hear tears in her own voice as well. “Did Carrie call Stanley for you? You should really call Stanley just in case and--”

“Donna, shhh,” he hushed her softly. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Just focus on getting patched up and getting home as soon as possible.”

Josh heard her take a shaking breath and release a small sob and as much as it broke his heart to hear her hurting, it was more beautiful than anything he could have conjured up in his imagination because Donna was alive and Donna was coming home. 

“Okay,” she said certainly. And then, quieter: “Will you-- will you be there when we get back?”

“I’ll be standing on the runway when your plane lands if they let me,” Josh said in all seriousness, tears dampening the collar of his shirt and sniffling loudly. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Donnatella. Every single bit.”

“They’re saying I have to hang up,” Donna said, a tinge of fear in her words that Josh could feel mirrored in his chest. “We’re landing soon, but Josh-- I’m so… and I--”

“I know,” he breathed. “It’s okay, I know.”

“I  _ love _ you,” she said with a heartbreaking, cracking, tear-stained voice. 

“Will you call me from the hospital?” he asked, knowing they were just about out of time and needing to have a definitive plan for the next time he could hear her voice set in place before they hung up. 

“Promise,” she responded. 

And that was all he needed, because he’d never had any reason to doubt her. 


End file.
